


Is This What Normal Boyfriends Do?

by DilynAliceBlake



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: M/M, fake dating au, noncanon timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:34:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22468705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DilynAliceBlake/pseuds/DilynAliceBlake
Summary: When Oswald is flirting with the cute forensic pathologist at the GCPD, he thinks about asking him out, but doesn’t.  When his mother asks him how his day went, he tells her that he did.  Now he’s supposedly been dating Edward Nygma for six months, and can’t put off introducing him to his mother any longer.Kidnapping the man will be easy.  All he has to do after that is convince him it’s in Edward’s best interests to go along with the lie.  Oswald would do a lot to keep his mother happy.  Besides, if his “boyfriend” isn’t up for it, a messy breakup isn’t out of the cards just yet.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Comments: 22
Kudos: 69





	1. An invite to dinner over lunch

Ed Nygma killed Thomas Dougherty and flawlessly disposed of the corpse right under the eye of the GCPD. It was all rather thrilling, and with the boost in confidence he plans to finally successfully ask out Miss Kringle. Of course, then he gets kidnapped on his lunch break. A thug takes the bag off his head once he’s been tied to a chair, and none other than the 

Penguin of Gotham himself dismisses the lackey.

“Mr. Penguin-” he begins, only to be cut off with that oh so charming smile.

“Call me Oswald.”

Ed clears his throat uncomfortably at the sudden familiarity. It’s difficult enough to know what level of casual is appropriate when without people defying his system.

“Oswald,” he tries. It’s more intimate than he’s prepared for, and he speaks quickly to cover the flush in his face. “Why was I brought here?”

“Negotiations.”

“That implies I have something you want.”

“Edward- Do you like being called Edward? Eddie, perhaps?”

“Just Ed.”

“Ed then. Ed, I would like your cooperation in a rather delicate deception I have found myself in.”

“In which you have found yourself,” Ed corrects.

“What?”

“The deception in which you have found yourself. You can’t end a sentence with a preposition.”

“Clearly I can, because I just did.”

The need to argue itches underneath his skin, but pressing his luck when he’s already tied to a chair is probably not the safest route to take. 

“Right, well, if I’m going to help you, I’ll need more information. Am I to be an alibi?”

“No no, nothing so criminal. I need you to pose as my fake boyfriend during a dinner with my mother. Possibly several dinners, should the first go well.”

“Your fake-”

“Boyfriend, yes. My mother is hosting a dinner for the man  _ she _ thinks I’ve been dating for the last six months. Since it’s been half a year, I can no longer claim it isn’t serious enough to merit an introduction. I really don’t feel like repeating this whole thing another six to eight months from now, so I figure a particularly bad breakup after we’ve been together a year or so should leave me with a little breathing room before she brings up finding someone again.

“So. Take this file. Read it. Memorise it. Pick up the suit from the listed address after your shift is over. Bring a bouquet, but pick it yourself; she’d know if I chose the flowers. I’ll pick you up at six fifty from your apartment. Be ready then, I won’t risk being late.”

“Um, sir, are you sure that I’m the best-”

“Ed. This is very important to my mother. That means it’s very important to me. You don’t want to know what will happen if you disappoint me. Now shoo.”

The knife he was holding threateningly in Ed’s face is used to cut the ropes that have been biting his wrists. Ed shoos.


	2. Interlude: Ed's thoughts on the matter

Lunch was obviously a miss, but some mixed nuts from the vending machine will tide him over nicely enough until this dinner he’s found himself invited to. The file is, interestingly enough, on Oswald and his mother. Things he supposes that, had they been dating for six months, Edward would know about him. Memorizing it should be a chore, but there’s a certain draw to knowing the Penguin’s favorite color and what clubs he was in during his schooling.

Aside from the giggle he gets out of imagining a young Penguin twirling a flag before football games, the file also brings into sharp clarity something that hadn’t occurred to him during the quote unquote negotiations. Miss Kringle. He cannot in good conscience pursue his coworker while also performing the motions of a relationship with someone else. It reeks uncomfortably of infidelity. His plans for wooing must for now be tabled.

He would be more upset at the postponement, but to be so close to such a powerful figure of the criminal underworld is a much rarer opportunity then merely finding love. People find love every day. How often does someone find themselves literally handed guaranteed accurate information on the Penguin and then having dinner with the man’s mother.

It has absolutely nothing to do with that objectively enchanting smile or the way Oswald’s eyes were so clear and cutting. It’s just an opportunity, and one of which Edward plans to make the most.


	3. Ready

The ride to their destination Oswald spends quizzing him on what was in the folder and assessing the picture he presents. When they arrive, Oswald’s worries are all assuaged, but Edward himself still has qualms. He brings them up as they walk to the door.

“Sir-”

“Oswald!” he reminds sharply.

“Oswald. The file didn’t mention what I’m supposed to do for a living, how we met, any number of things which could be integral to a smooth evening and convincing performance.”

"Don't worry; just tell the truth."

“You never told your mother how you and your fake boyfriend met?”

“Of course I told her how we met!”

“We. How _we_ met. Oswald, have I been your fake boyfriend since August? What if I hadn’t agreed to this dinner?”

“Then my boyfriend would have suffered a very tragic and fatal accident, leaving me horrified and put off dating for the foreseeable future.”

“You are positively vicious.”

“Problem?”

“Absolutely not,” Ed says, and to Oswald’s surprise the assertion sounds genuine.

“Good. Now _knock_.”


	4. Introductions

Ed presents the bouquet with his sweetest smile.

“For the lady,” he says, and adds a wink for good measure.

“Oh, so charming! Come in, welcome! Such a handsome man my son has found.”

“I’m hardly-” Ed protests, but Oswald interrupts him.

“No, she’s right. If you weren’t I wouldn’t be dating you.”

“Modest, too,” Gertrud exclaims. “I will go put these in some water. You sit, and I will join shortly.”

They sit, Ed eyeing the mismatched tableware and plethora of family photos scattered around. When Oswald’s mother gets back, he finds himself speaking.

“You have a lovely home,” he compliments, sincere and in awe. “I’ve never seen somewhere so filled with love.” It occurs to him then, the implications of his demeanor, and he tries to change the subject quickly.

“Oswald was an adorable child.”

It is only now, of course, that Penguin realizes the evening he is in for. 

“Let’s eat!” he interjects, before his mother can get it in her mind to bring out the baby books.

“Of course,” Ed capitulates with a smile, “It smells delicious.”


	5. Shovel Talk

After dinner is finished, Oswald goes to get them drinks while Ed and Gertrud settle into the couch for post meal conversation.

“You are a nice man,” she croons, patting his cheek, but the look in her eyes is one Ed has seen before, and suddenly he finds himself nervous.

“My son, he is such a good boy. But he lies to me. Keeps me safe from the bad men and the polizi. You know, don’t you? What my boy has accomplished. He has always been so resourceful, my Oswald, but sometimes he is not the strongest. He feels with his heart. Do not hurt him. Accidents, they are so messy to clean up.”

“Yes ma’am,” Ed agrees quickly. This woman is more fierce than he suspects Oswald knows.

“Such a sweet man! You will be good for my Oswald.”

The approval may come under dishonest circumstances, but it fills him with warmth to have earned it.


	6. Weaving webs

When, over drinks, Oswald’s mother asked them about their plans for Valentines Day, he almost panics. 

“No, we don’t have plans yet,” Ed interjects.

“But it is so close!” she argues, “A day of love!”

“We weren’t sure if Oswald would be able to get the day off,” Ed covers smoothly, “And crowds make me uncomfortable. We were thinking of doing something small. I was actually considering surprising him with a picnic, before you asked.”

“Oh, and I ruined the surprise,” she laments.

“I’m sure the picnic isn’t ruined, Mother,” Oswald soothes. “I’ll just know to expect it and dress for the weather.”

“Oh, would being outdoors bother you? I’m sorry, your leg, and the cold, I shouldn’t have assumed-”

“No no! It’s...Sweet. We can do a picnic. Should I bring anything?”

“Your smile,” Ed says, and then blushes when he realizes they’re still under Gertrud’s watchful eye. For a moment, he had gotten swept away in the fantasy of it all.

“We can discuss it more later. I’ll text you?”

“Yes, of course. It’s getting late, and you have an early morning. It was lovely to see you as always, mother.”

“Tell me about how your picnic goes,” she insists, “Do not forget about your poor mother!”

“I’ll visit more,” he assures as he grabs his coat.

“Both of you!” Gertrud prompts.

“If you’d like,” Ed agrees, before Oswald can make his excuses. “Maybe you can help me with date ideas.”

By all accounts, the evening went wonderfully. Still, as he’s dropping Ed off back home and the professionalism returns to their demeanor, something in Oswald’s insides twists with dissatisfaction.


	7. An easy agreement

By all rights, Oswald could just hunt down Ed’s phone number. He doesn’t have to kidnap him again.

“Ah, Mr. Peng- Oswald. I see I’m not to be tied to a chair for this meeting.”

“Quite right. I just thought we should establish how this picnic of ours goes.”

“Actually, I was thinking; wouldn’t it be easier if we actually went on the picnic, instead of trying to keep our stories straight?”

“I fail to see in what way this would benefit me,” Penguin argues, posturing against the fluttering in his stomach at the idea.

“Well, we have a chat, you don’t have to waste effort making up what foods were there or where we went, and we can learn a little more about each other. If I’m to be your boyfriend for another six months the least I could do is participate this time.”

“Say we do go on this date, Edward. What guarantee do I have that it won’t just be an annoying waste of time?”

“Well, say we try it once; compare the next dinner with your mother to yesterday’s. If it makes it easier, the whole thing more convincing, we keep going on fake dates so our story is solid. If it doesn’t make a difference then I won’t suggest it again. I understand that you’re a very busy man. It’s an idea is all.”

The logic, Oswald cannot deny, is perfectly sound. It would feel a lot less like lying to his mother if this were to work. His agreement, when it comes, is one of practicality. Getting to see and spend time with Ed is just a bonus. He’d hardly have gotten this far if he didn’t take advantage of every opportunity, after all.


	8. First Date

“I know it’s not a traditional picnic basket, but I wanted something that would keep the food warm. I- uh- I cooked.” 

Ed certainly isn’t blushing. There’s nothing anxiety inducing or abnormal about cooking for your boyfriend of six months. He leads Oz to the gazebo, and the way Oswald is staring at it makes him want to squirm.

“It’s got a built in bench. I thought, with your leg, this way you wouldn’t have to lower yourself down so much, and if it rains-”

“Ed! It’s perfect- uh perfectly acceptable. I like it.”

A smile pulls its way up Ed’s cheeks, and he begins to set plates up between them, food containers spread at their feet.

“What would you like?”

“I’m capable of making my own plate, Ed.”

“As the host-”

“We’re in a park; if anyone’s host it’s the squirrels,” he disagrees.

“Please, Mr. Penguin. Oswald. I’d like to serve you. Food! I’d like to, um, that is to say-”

“Dessert first!” Oswald declares, trying to dissipate the sudden weight to the atmosphere.

“As you say,” Ed agrees, and dishes them each a portion of balaclava.

Dessert passes, and then the meal. To Ed’s secret relief Oswald doesn’t seem to dislike any of his cooking, though he shows clear preference for some dishes over others.

“My mother used to make us goulash,” Oswald regales, “During the cold months nothing warms you up quite the same.”

“Oh I can imagine. When I was little I used to pretend on cold days that I was somewhere cozy with a fire, drinking hot chocolate; imagining what it might taste like.”

“You must have been very little.”

“Nine or ten,” Ed muses, caught up in the memory.

“And you’d never had hot chocolate?”

There’s something solemn in Oswald’s voice, and Ed jumps to change the subject.

“If you don’t mind my asking, about how many people would you say you’ve killed?”

“I would _say_ I’ve killed none,” Oswald snaps at the prodding. He’s half defensive at the line of questioning, half upset at the sudden turn of conversation when they had been connecting so well.

“I don’t mean to offend, I know it’s not any of my business-”

“It isn’t,” he agrees firmly. He doesn’t want to ruin what’s turning out to be a perfectly lovely date by saying something that will put the man off. “Besides, you don’t really want to know that. You think you do, but-”

“Two,” Ed interrupts, before Oswald can close off more into his shell of melancholy.

“I’ve killed two people. A cop. He’s buried in the woods. I cut him up into pieces so I didn’t have to dig the hole too deep. A hunter found me there, and I'd already dug the hole. I thought- Hey, what's one more? Two's company. You’re the first person I’ve told.”

Something in Oswald’s chest flips at the admission.

“Why’d you kill him? The cop?” Oz asks.

“He uh. Wasn’t very nice to me. Wasn’t very nice to anyone. I tried to get him to stop beating his girlfriend. He didn’t want to comply. It didn’t end well for him.”

“No, I can see that it didn’t.”

They’re quiet for a long time, each lost in thought. Finally, quiet as a breath, Oswald speaks.

“I’ve killed more people than I could possibly count. I don’t regret a single one.”

“Yeah,” Ed huffs with a self deprecating smile, “Me neither.”

Oswald can’t help it. He laughs.


End file.
